Big hugs and thanks to lizde for fixing my mistakes. I owe her! Like big time!

Ch5/Bella/Silly Comet Dreams

"No problem Edward," I said, trying my best not let my fear show. His mouth fell open a little and I smiled at him. He seriously thinks I don't know what he's up to? I can smell his bullshit. I turned around, facing the front again. I knew he was still looking at me.

He's after me. Why can't they just leave me alone? What is he trying to do? Whatever it is, I'm not going to fall for it. I'm going to stay away from Edward Cullen. It's safer that way. I like safe. Safety is such a rare thing for me. Whenever I find it, I grab onto it and hold it tight like a hungry man with a sandwich.

Speaking of sandwiches, I'm hungry.

Mom didn't make breakfast this morning because she was in a bad mood. I could've made myself something, but I woke up late again and there was hardly any food in the fridge. Father is the one with the money, and my mother is too afraid to tell him when we run out of food. He'll just start talking this crap about how we're fat pigs who waste his money. I didn't eat my sandwich today at lunch because I couldn't stand being in the same room as Edward Cullen, just like I can't stand sitting in this class room with him behind me now. I'm so damn scared. I feel like he's staring holes into my back. Will he stab me in the back with that pen I gave him? Nah…he's an asshole not a psycho. I bite my lip to keep from shaking. I know what pissed people can do.

When people are pissed they are not safe to be around.

When people are pissed at me, it's especially bad. His neck turns red and the veins in his forehead pop out and he starts spitting saliva. He looks at me with his dark brown eyes full of menace and I'd swear he could swallow me whole. It's like I'll drown. I don't know how to swim. I can't seem to hide well enough. His smell when he's drunk makes me nauseas and scared. The way his moustache gets wet from the beer - it's disgusting and it makes me shake. I still remember that it's the same moustache that would tickle me every time he would give me a kiss on the cheek when I was kid. That was when I couldn't wait for daddy to come home. Now I fear every moment he's there. I wish I could hide.

I wish I could disappear.

I wish I was someone else.

I wish they would leave me alone. Them…everyone…anyone.

I stare at the assignment Mrs. Morris gave us. We're starting Romeo and Juliet. Ugh. It's just a bunch of whiney teenagers who kill themselves for a false sense of security and love. I mean I'm whiney, but nobody would write a story about it, and we definitely wouldn't read it in school. So why should I care about this pair of love struck kiddies?

We're supposed to write about what we know about the play already and give our opinions on it. But I don't care, especially when the devil himself is sitting behind me and I'm just waiting for him to strike.

I'm bracing myself. I know where the door is. I keep an eye on it the whole time. My heart is pounding against my chest. I feel this weird heat behind my ears and I can't breathe.

But even after all this I can't hate him. I can't hate Edward. It's like he completes some weird part of me. If he wasn't around whose beauty would I admire? Who would I feel adoration for? In my mind I've made up the perfect boy. Without him for a model who would I use? He has Edward's face, his crooked smile, his bronze hair, his fit body, and the spirit of an angel. He would keep me safe. He would fight him off. He would tell Tanya to fuck off and tell me to toughen up. If anybody ever held me close, I would want him to do it. Not real Edward…my Edward. I want to bury my face in his chest and smell his cologne and feel his arms around me. Feel the softness of his shirt against my cheek.

Not real Edward…my Edward.

I'm pathetic and a disgrace to women. I roll my eyes at myself and kick my stupid dreams out of my pathetic mind.

The classroom was silent for the rest of the period. The clock was agonizingly slow, and Edward wrote. I could hear my pen writing in his beautiful hand. How I envy thee. Damn you pen, and damn you Shakespeare.

The bell finally signaled the end of class and, instead of staying behind as usual; I grabbed my stuff and ran out of the class. I ran, ignoring Edward calling my name to remind me that he had my pen. Keep it; I'm sure you can use it later as a murder weapon.

I grabbed what I needed from my locker and ran past Tanya and the Whore Gang. I knew they were staring at me the whole time, but for some reason they didn't say anything. I drove home in silence again. I had forgotten my CDs at home and I hate the radio. Lady Gaga my ass. I prefer the silence.

My mother made dinner late that night because Father got home later due to a shift change. Sometimes when Father works the night shift mother doesn't make anything to eat. She just stays in her room or she leaves. I don't see her at all on those days. As we ate our soup Father complained about having to drink his food. He said he wanted some steak. My mother finally told him we were out of food. He grumbled, threw some money on the table, and grumbled some more on his way up the stairs to the shower. Mother didn't even try to make conversation with me. I wasn't surprised.

Before I went to sleep that night I did the usual. I drew like a mad woman. Sometimes I draw for so long and get so lost in whatever I draw, that before I know it, it's late as hell and my lower lip is stuck between my teeth. It's a nasty habit, but I can't seem to stop. I'm not even aware of it when I do it.

After I did my "venting" with my drawing, I clipped it to my wall with the others. My "personal" or "scary" drawings, the ones that would make my mom gasp and cry and make Father send me to a shrink, are in my school sketch book. I keep that one with me at school so I can draw during class. I have many sketch books. I have two favorites right now. One is for school and the other one is for home. The sheets for the one for home hang on my walls. I guess it's not really a sketch book since I tear all the pages out.

I made sure to get up early for school the next day to avoid bumping into Edward again or running past Tanya. I made it to school with twenty minutes to spare, and got to math class early. Nobody was there, not even the teacher. I got out my sketch book and began to draw. The class began to fill, but I ignored everyone and didn't even look to see if Alice Cullen had come to school today. I completely forgot to pay attention and instead spent the entire period drawing comets in my sketch book. Why? I don't know. Does everything need an explanation?

The rest of my classes went by the same as the day before. I caught Emmett and Jasper both looking at me a few times, but they didn't say anything or look at me threateningly. Emmett even gave me a half smile. Have they forgotten? One can only hope. I started to feel hopeful. I mean if they wanted to get back at me, they would have done it already, right?

I rushed to lunch. I was starving, but I wasn't going to eat in the cafeteria. Hell to the no. Edward and his heavy stare would be there. He was usually late to lunch, so I had time. I made my way to the lunch line. A few others were already there. Mike Newton and Ben (whose last name I don't know) were in front of me arguing about who was hotter in school. Eventually they moved along to celebrities like Megan Fox and Angelina Jolie. I rolled my eyes at them. I just wanted a sandwich. Why did I have to endure their shallow conversation to get it?

As I waited for the line to move along, so I could get away from Mike and Ben, I felt someone come up behind me. I didn't care who it was until I smelled him. I didn't dare look back at him. His smell was so sweet, so inviting, but it was all a trick. He didn't say anything, but I knew he was there. I swear I can feel Edward Cullen's presence in a crowded room. I don't know why. It's probably his smell. The jerk smells good. I'm not shitting.

Mike and Ben started rough housing and I wanted to take a step back away from them so I wouldn't be hit, but he stepped in closer behind me. Mike pushed Ben a little too hard and it pissed Ben off. Ben's smile disappeared and he looked mad as hell.

Oh shit.

He pushed Mike a little harder and it caused Mike to stumble back. I could have sworn he was going to fall on me, and knowing my luck they would blame it on me. Mike tried to grab on to something before he stumbled back, but failed. He was about to bump into me hard when he pushed him off.

"What the fuck Mike? You almost fell on Bella!" Edward said, pushing Mike away with one arm. Mike looked down at me and seemed not to care, but then he looked back at Edward and whatever he saw must have made him reconsider.

"Dude, I'm sorry Isabella. I mean Bella. Whatever…you know," Mike said. He looked at me nervously. I said nothing and just nodded. He gave me a fake smile and returned to the line.

I still didn't look at Edward. I'm sure he expected me to thank him. Damn, I already owe him. I hate this.

I grabbed a sandwich and a soda, and ignored Edward. What does he want? I mean why is he early to lunch? Why does he smile at me, and why in the hell did he defend me from one of his friends? I didn't look back. I don't even know what he's wearing today; something which I (pathetically) do know every other day.

I got to the cashier and pulled out the five bucks Father gives me for lunch every day."I'm sorry Isabella but we had to raise our prices. It's gonna be six dollars now honey; four dollars for the sandwich and two for the soda," Nancy, the cashier, said. I looked at her in shock, but Nancy never felt pity for a broke and hungry teenager. I knew she wouldn't care if I was just a dollar off. Four damn dollars for a school sandwich? Who the hell are they kidding?

"Six bucks? But…um…I…uh…um…" I said looking down embarrassed. "I think I have quarters in my pockets," I said, lamely. What the hell was I doing? I know I don't have any more money. My green sweater has holes in its pockets and I don't put anything in my jean pockets. Before I could tell Nancy to shove her sandwich where sun don't shine, the "apparently always helpful" hand of Edward Cullen extended a dollar bill to Nancy.

"Here you go. Now will you let the girl have her food?" Edward said in his velvety voice. I turned to look up at him and he looked down at me and gave me his crooked smile.

He was beautiful. That bastard…

His bronze mess of hair was "extra" messy today and the blue button down shirt he was wearing made his pale skin almost sparkle. Again, I'm not shitting.

"Uh…I…um…uh you didn't have…" God I wish I could speak.

"It's okay Bella. Whenever I need a buck, you can let me have one," He said in a friendly tone, and smiled again.

"Um…ok…thanks," I said. I started to walk away.

"Bella, wait!" he said. I stopped. I shouldn't have stopped.

"Did you do the assignment for English? I swear I have no idea what I'm doing on it and um…I know, I know, I know 'fuck off Cullen' but I really need some help. You're smart and I was wondering…"

Edward Cullen is full of shit. I didn't have any idea what to do on the damn assignment. I didn't do it. He was writing all through the whole class period. What the hell does he need help with? "You're smart." Yeah right. What the hell does he want?

"I was wondering if maybe you could help me," Edward said, giving me a smile. I had to look away or he would win. He gently placed a hand on my shoulder "Please… and I can help you with it too," I could hear a smile in his voice. I wasn't falling for that.

"No," I said and roughly pulled away from him. I looked up at him and he looked shocked, as if he had expected me to melt to the floor and offer myself to him. Instead I had just failed him.

"Why not?" He asked, sounding insulted.

"I didn't do it. I don't get it either," I said. I'm such a liar, but that sounded better than "Really I don't give a shit so I didn't do it. Even though I promised my mother I would do better. But since your evil presence was behind me the whole time, I couldn't concentrate…so fuck you."

"Oh," he said, looking a bit out of place now. He ran his hands through his hair. "Oh, well I might…" Before he could finish, Tanya and the Whore Gang walked into the cafeteria.

"I should go," I said, cutting him off. I quickly walked away. He didn't try to stop me this time. I walked past the Whore Gang, who all giggled as I passed by. They said something about my green sweater and how I looked like I needed a hair brush. I ignored them and made my way through the halls and finally reached the back doors.

There was nobody out there. There never is, because it's against the school rules. Occasionally some kids will sneak off back there and hide in the alley behind the school and smoke cigarettes. Sometimes they go into the bushes where the Cullens were caught and make out. That wasn't where I was going.

I walked past the drawing on the wall that Mrs. Walton has forgotten to make me clean. I'm not going to remind her. I walked a few more steps and reached the chain link fence that divided the school property from the rest of the woods. I opened a gate leading out (it's a wonder that they never lock it) and went to my tree. The tree is wide and huge and, since I'm sort of small, I can hide behind it. I come here when the cafeteria is full, to draw or just get away. Sometimes, on cold or rainy days, I sit under the porch of the school instead. There is a corner of the building there where I can hide, but I like the tree better.

I don't come out here often because it's always raining or too cold. But today, the weather is just right. I sat with my back against the tree, facing the woods. I put my can of soda on the ground and quickly ate my sandwich. Eating would take time away from what I really wanted to do. The ground wasn't too damp today, but I still had to hurry before my jeans got soaked. When I finished eating, I took a sip from my soda and placed it back on the ground. I crawled a few inches, and with a rock began to dig through the dirt, looking for my knife.

No, I'm not a psycho. It's a carving knife. I stole it from my art class. I know it probably has a fancy name, but I really don't care. I grabbed it and went back to the tree. Our art teacher threatened to expel us if we ever stole his knives. But the day after we started the carving assignment a knife went missing. He asked us all nicely, and then angrily, who stole it. He let us know that he wasn't bullshitting when he said he was going to expel us. Nobody said anything of course. Because nobody expects me to steal something like that, nobody figured out who it was; but I still spent that whole class period shaking in fear. So that was the last time we used the knives. I don't feel guilty. Who the hell gives knives to a bunch of teens anyway? I keep it hidden out here in the woods, that way they'll never find it on me.

I stood up and started carving. I had been trying to finish this for the longest time, but I hadn't been able to because of the rain. As I worked, it started again, the loss of reality. I think that's why I love to draw. Some people drink, some do drugs and lamely blame it on their lives. I just draw. I get lost in the lines, the shading, and the shapes. It's not unhealthy. This time I really needed it and I did get lost, so lost that I didn't notice that I'd cut myself until I felt the sting in my hand.

"Shit!" I gasped. It hurt like hell. I dropped the knife and grabbed my hand. I closed my hand tightly into a fist and felt the warm liquid gathering in my hand. "Oh shit," I whispered. I know what happens when I see red. I pass out. Who would find me if I did that out here? I slowly made my way back to the school building. I felt weak and I stumbled a few times. I know it's just a cut, but the woozy feeling always happens. I get sick to my stomach just from knowing that I'm bleeding.

I was barely able to open the heavy school doors. I needed to get to the nurse. She already knows me by name and I don't feel embarrassed around her. I just make up stories about how I fell and she believes me. Who wouldn't? She'll put some crap on the cut and wrap it up with a bandage and then I won't be bleeding anymore. I'll be safe again.

My brain was pounding against my skull, my stomach was doing back flips, and I broke out in a cold sweat. I began to shake. My head was killing me and my vision blurred even more. I took my glasses off, hoping that would help ease the pain. My hands searched for support and I found the lockers. I was fighting against my weakness so I could get to the nurse's office, but my feet stopped moving. I placed my forehead against the cool lockers and grabbed my stomach. I tried not to breathe in the scent of the blood. It smells like iron. It's disgusting.

"Bella?" someone said. Duh, of course it's me. Who else is always dying? If I hadn't been about to pass out (and a bit annoyed) I would have recognized his voice. "Shit Bella, you alright?" he asked again, as he rushed over to me. I don't know where he was coming from, but I could smell him coming.

Oh shit.

He placed his hands on my shoulders and I swear I shook a little more. He gently pulled me away from the lockers and turned me to face him. "Shit Bella, you're pale!" He said. I looked up at him weakly. I was holding my hand again and he looked at it. "Damn! You're bleeding!" he said, panicked.

"No shit…I…need…nurse," I said weakly before my legs gave up. I was about to hit the floor when he grabbed me. It hurt, I'm sure he didn't mean for it to, but it hurt. Before I knew it I was being carried. I was half conscious and I could still feel his movements as he carried me. I could hear his breathing and his heartbeat against my ear. His arms were under my back and under my knees and my face was pressed against his chest.

God he does smell heavenly.

I quickly tried to move my face away from him. He was ruining it. He isn't the one. I'm saving this moment for someone else. But I couldn't move my head. I could feel his face in my hair. I wanted to yell at him and order him to put me down. His heart was beating fast and I could feel his warm breath on my forehead. I gave up and closed my eyes and let him carry me. His shirt was soft against my cheek.

I sighed.

I hate him.